


Woe Is Me!

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [139]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27717256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Crowley was heading to get a coffee when he met Adam going the same way. Adam curbed his stride to match Crowley's saunter without a word, though this time he didn't get between Crowley and the wall
Relationships: Adam Young & Arthur Young | Mr Young (Good Omens), Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Adam Young (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [139]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 31
Kudos: 643





	Woe Is Me!

Adam struck a pose in Crowley and Aziraphale's living room. "Woe is me, for I am under attack by my nemesis, the eeeeeeeeeevil Dr Cr-"

Crowley interrupted his speech by throwing a cushion at him, and Adam collapsed dramatically into an armchair. Warlock laughed, and leaned over the back of the chair to grab the cushion.

Adam got there first and hurled the cushion back at Crowley. Aziraphale hardly looked up from his book as he absently batted it away before it hit Crowley's bad leg, sending it towards Anathema and Newt. Anathema ducked. Newt took the full force of the impact with a muted _oof_.

He sighed and tucked the cushion under him as he sat on the floor at Anathema's feet, his limbs gangling in all directions. "Is this a pillow fight?" he asked, blinking mildly behind his glasses. "Because if it is, I shall have to arm myself."

Crowley lounged back into the pile of cushions on the old sofa and carefully stretched out his legs so that his calves rested on Aziraphale's wide thighs. "Well, Adam? Is it a pillow fight?"

Adam slumped deeper into the chair, deflated. "Not while you've got all the ammunition."

Crowley crooked a grin at him, the corners of his mouth lifting like a finger beckoning discreetly for laughter to come closer. "Smart kid."

"I'm hardly a kid these days."

"No? You married _my_ kid."

Warlock's face softened, a gentle smile curving their mouth.

"We do have names, you know," Anathema pointed out fondly.

Crowley let his head fall back with a grimace.

Anathema winced and opened her mouth to apologise.

Aziraphale glanced up and cut her off with a gentle wordless shake of his head, even as he rested his free hand on Crowley's leg and began to knead away the knots in the muscle.

"All right," Crowley sighed, without lifting his head. "What do you want to be called instead?"

Adam faltered. "I - don't know. Can I think about it?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever, let me know when you're done."

***

Crowley was heading to get a coffee when he met Adam going the same way.

Adam curbed his stride to match Crowley's saunter without a word, though this time he didn't get between Crowley and the wall. "We should have that pillow fight sometime," he joked quietly, and then his phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out, answered it, and the colour drained from his face.

Crowley glanced at the crowded corridor, hastily consulted his ever-shifting mental map of Places to Sit, then caught Adam's arm and pulled him into a classroom where there wouldn't be a lesson for almost an hour. The rumour-mill could go eat itself for all he cared right now, and it probably would.

Adam, meanwhile, collapsed gracelessly into a seat, dropped the phone onto a second seat and buried his face in his hands. Turquoise nails made a painfully cheerful contrast to his pallor.

Crowley took the seat across the aisle from him. "What is it?" he asked, softly but urgently, then took another look and amended his question. "Who is it?" Let it not be Warlock...

Adam didn't answer immediately, but his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Crowley grimaced and moved to sit beside him. He started by rubbing Adam's back, but the younger man turned and clutched at him for comfort, so Crowley held him instead and let him cry himself out.

"It's my dad," Adam said at last, lifting a tear stained face from Crowley's shoulder. "My real dad. There's been an accident. He's pretty badly hurt. I can't lose him, Crowley, I can't. He's - my anchor to reality."

"You want to go to him?"

Adam sniffed. "I don't even know if I can. He'd always be the one to pick me up from the station..."

That was something Crowley could solve at least. "Worst comes to worst," he said, "I'll drive you down. You going to be ok to teach the rest of the day?"


End file.
